


We try to drain the night empty

by LennyFace



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Imagine Hanzo Forced To Eat Ribs While Trying To Catch Terrorists..., M/M, McCree Thrives In America While Hanzo Suffers, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-30 17:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20450762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LennyFace/pseuds/LennyFace
Summary: “You want us to reactivate your outposts, and find theirs, while preventing their attacks, is that correct ?” Hanzo cut him before he opened his mouth again.“Exactly. We’re giving you thermic and magnetic radars, triangulation devices and nocturnal glasses. I’m attaching an USB key as well with the encrypted data of our other agents if you ever need help.”“It won’t-” Hanzo started, before getting stopped by the back of McCree’s hand against his arm and the man speaking louder.“You’re treating us like kings, y’ve got all our gratitude Agent Guilliams. What about sharing a meal around the states’ maps ? I’m a bit rusty on natural heritage, and damn god I’m famished.”||Overwatch needs a duo to go undercover in the States to reactivate the outposts and discover what's really going on.Hanzo and McCree are the ones sent, despite how poor their communication skills with each other are.





	1. — 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for almost two years. I have to dig up my West US tour guide from where I have it shelved and work on this fic again!!  
I don't know if people still read OW fics but, here goes.

It was a perfect day to be back home. Bare arms and face heated by the sun as the motor whirrs to a barely audible hum ; the wind’s sweet ol’ chant splitting against the car’s hood. He’s glad to see New Mexico’s landscape again as he rides along the 25th, a solitary passenger moving through desertic spaces.

It would’ve been ideal if it weren’t for a mission. Take it as mild vacation : part _ you could maybe die there _ part _ but it’s a scenery to die for. _

He’d considered putting a nice playlist on to accompany him but he was too busy grinning, an arm splayed against the open window, taking in the atmosphere.

Winston’s fink in Northern US had contacted him, asking for help, quickly, in a worried tone. The amount of info given had been sparse : it included Talon, canyon explorations and, in a hushed tone, a possible attack. The scientist had been quick to react, the crisis unit brought together under an hour.

He estimated the mission needed two agents : a local - someone who’d know where to go, how to ask people around - and a skilled, stealthy climber. McCree had seen Genji perk his head up, hands closing tight, expectant, ready ; and then Winston spoke his name and the elder Shimada’s one. 

He’d fisted his hands as well, but not in the cheerful way his brother had done so ; no, it had been a taut movement, one a man did with his jaw clenched. Nevertheless, he’d kept quiet, waiting for orders.

The task was to be done in under a month, if everything went well. The agent based in Denver was more resourceful and suited to inform and equip them accordingly to their exact purpose. Jesse had managed being dropped in early, not in Denver but in Santa Fe, in order to “get props that would make them go under the radar even better”. 

Smiling at his rear-view mirror, he sure was ready to pass as the most local man around, but oh boy did he expect Hanzo to snarl. He, on the other hand, had been sent to Denver’s suburban area, close to the airport, meant to wait for McCree’s return from his errand. He sped up, sure to find him in a shitty mood, pacing in his cheap motel room and waiting for them to get going.

It’s not that they _ hated _ each other, he thought, waving a hand for himself. To put it simply, McCree thought Hanzo was a broody man ; plus, you couldn’t sweep away the fact he’d tried to murder his own blood. 

The ordeal of attempting to kill his friend hadn’t set very right with him, but he knew firsthand what it was like to be a part of a gang, what you had to do to please your elders ; he couldn’t fathom the weight of being the Shimada-gumi’s heir. 

Genji had spent a great amount of time with him, watching Gibraltar’s Alboran sea, talking about letting go and redemption. If Zenyatta’s teachings had done wonders to him, McCree still clung to some of his anger, some of his frustration. Hanzo was a speck of dust in his issues ; years later, he couldn’t accept Gabriel, Jack or Ana’s deaths. Imagining for a second not having known Genji stuck to his throat, making it hard to swallow, hard for him to let his guard down around the bowman. 

That moron, though, straight up disliked him for the pettiest reasons. He was, by his sayings, an idiot, a good for nothing white trash with no class whatsoever, and the list went on : various insults thrown around in training, dinner, hushed by Reinhardt’s solid palm against his shoulder and Lucio’s laughter. Sometimes, when planets align, he gets an half-assed compliment about his aim, but it never gets more amiable than that.

And here they were, stuck together for a complete month.

Denver’s outline appeared in front of him, planes taking off under noon’s sun, the first constructions in sight. He checked himself in the mirror once again : no serape, plain jeans accorded with a boring baseball cap, a trimmed beard ; he could barely recognize himself, save others to spot who he was. He hoped Hanzo had at least heard the words “casual clothing” once in his life. 

The last few miles brought memories back: baseball games, trips with friends to get a firsthand taste of what full open mindedness was, what freedom in a big city felt like ; before what would become his outlaw life, his routine made out of danger, fights and flights.

His mind was still wrapped around those images when he stopped his car in the cheap hotel’s parking, pulling himself out of it as he checked Winston’s memo again. Room 204. 

He’d barely rasped his knuckles against the door that it went flying open, offering him the great sight of Hanzo’s furrowed brows, arms crossed, already carrying his luggage.

“What took you so long ?” He greeted him, hurriedly walking past him, expecting McCree to follow.

“Hey yourself.” 

A good start, he thought to himself, already exasperated and trying to not be spotted rolling his eyes ten seconds in.

“If you think this mission is for respite, you are wrong.” He continued, not looking back, his shoulders tensed.

“It’s not even past one, could you breathe for a second ?” Walking faster, he guided the other man with a head jerk. “I needed to retrieve a crucial element for our cover.”

“What in the wor- don’t tell me you made our informer wait for this atrocity.”

Nose scrunched, Hanzo looked at the car, then at McCree proudly sitting on it, then back at it again.

“Don’t insult her, she’s an original Cadillac, I had a friend look over her while I was gone!” 

It was his turn to look offended as the other moved around to open the trunk.

“Her ? You consider your car female ?”

If he’d looked blasé before, he looked desperate now.

“Don’t you disrespect this jewel. Plus, we couldn’t look more local now !”

Sighing, he closes the trunk and hushes McCree away to take his seat.

“Unbelievable.”

He’d chosen to ignore his barbs, turning the engines on, and exiting as fast as he’d entered. Driving around the city, he took Hanzo’s mission attire in : a gym shirt and fitted jeans, accompanied by surprisingly loosened hair. The man caught his stare and breathed out, like he was about to explain something extremely tedious to a child.

“I need a rubber band ; I can’t walk around with my ribbon. There’s nothing more to say about it.”

“Oh but I didn’t say anything.” He replied, smirking. “You look like a perfect city man. You ready to go for a jog and weigh some lifts before we stop for a frappé at Starbucks ?”

“Nonsense, this is gibberish.” 

McCree was thinking of creating a scoreboard for every time Hanzo sighed, it was already the third time in less than ten minutes. Maybe he could break a world record by the end of the month.

“You’d blend in just fine if you looked a lil’ more relaxed than a log.” His arm was back on the window frame, driving with the other one.

‘You take care of that for the both of us. Stick to driving.” He received as an answer, the man looking straight ahead, lips pursed.

“Yes milord, of course.” McCree mocked, tipping his cap - and already missing his Stetson -. “Fasten your belt, the Botanic Gardens await us.”

And indeed, they were awaited. A bald man in his forties was sitting on a bench, in front of a beautiful pond, nervously playing with a pen.

“You sure you don’t want this to be looking a lil more like vacation ? I mean, look at these waterlilies and, hum, whatever the hell all these plants are, ain’t it mighty fine ?” He elbowed Hanzo who ignored him, directly walking up to the man.

“Stop fretting, you’ll attract attention.”

He sure wasn’t a master in welcoming people.

“What my friend means,” Jesse started, pointedly smiling at Hanzo’s wrathful glare. “is that you don’t need to worry anymore, we’re taking things over from now on.”

The man gauged the both of them, squinting.

“Codeword.”

Hanzo tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, collecting himself for Winston’s code.

“Peanut. Butter. Toasts.”

McCree bit his lip, holding back a full-fledged smile, as their informer visibly relaxed.

“Thank god. Please, follow me.”

He tucked his pen back in his shirt pocket and started walking in the garden’s alleys.

“Agent Shimada, Agent McCree, I’m Guilliams ; nice to meet the both of you, your reputation precedes you. We’re in a bit of a situation here, I’m sure you won’t mind me cutting to the chase. Most of our outposts have been disabled by Talon’s new hacker ; you may have heard about them.”

“Sure have.” McCree replied, as Hanzo took the information in, having only joined a few months prior, aware of the essentials but still careful of any information.

“I managed to get the connection back on for a few minutes and sent the message to Agent Winston but this is extremely worrying. We have five outposts between here, Idaho, Utah and Wyoming, and they’ve all been shut down. We’d obtained some critical information about Talon’s next moves and whereabouts. We’ve learned that they have hideouts in those states as well - explains the facility with which they got to us - and are seemingly planning some kind of chemical attacks. We suppose that their labs are in the vicinity of the states I’ve just mentioned but we don’t have much more intel, aside from the fact that they built their bases on protected grounds so we’re going for natural forests, canyons, and so on.”

“You want us to reactivate your outposts, and find theirs, while preventing their attacks, is that correct ?” Hanzo cut him before he opened his mouth again.

“Exactly. We’re giving you thermic and magnetic radars, triangulation devices and nocturnal glasses. I’m attaching an USB key as well with the encrypted data of our other agents if you ever need help.”

“It won’t-” He started, before getting stopped by the back of McCree’s hand against his arm and the man speaking louder.

“You’re treating us like kings, y’ve got all our gratitude Agent Guilliams. What about sharing a meal around the states’ maps ? I’m a bit rusty on natural heritage, and damn god I’m famished.”

Hanzo looked significantly less murderous while eating as they circled possible locations on a map the size of their table. He’d taken a salad, more than circumspect before Jesse’s spicy chicken wings and Guilliams’ roasted beef burger. “Too greasy.” He’d told in a whisper to McCree when the agent had gone to the restrooms ; to which he’d answered “Oh man you’re in for a treat then. Just give yourself some time.” The man had received his reply with a raised brow but no squabble. Progress.

“So we’re heading two hours South, y’can take a nap if ya want cowboy.” Jesse chimed as they parted with their informer, hoping in his car, closely followed by Hanzo lightly making his apple jump in his hand.

“I am no cowboy.” He replied tersely. “Is everything going to be this seeping with oil or butter ?”

“You’ll be accustomed by next week, don’t sweat it. Though, the whole apple thing suits your healthy jogger cover.” McCree smiled.

“I will try trusting you and hope I will have time to undertake a detox program when we head back to the base.”

“Detox ? Damn, you don’t even need a cover Shimada!”

The bowman shot him a sidelong glance, and, to his surprise, was pinching his nose, with a small smile playing on his lips nonetheless.

“I see you trying to ruffle my feathers, McCree ; it won’t work. I’ve underwent torture as you might guess and it will not be your pointed comments that will do the trick.” 

Swallowing, Jesse frowned, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I, hum, I wouldn’t go that far buddy.”

No answer.

He looked at him and caught him smiling into his bitten apple.

“So that’s your humor ?”

“That, or a well recounted rakugo.”

The gunslinger used his propped arm to rub his face, already tired.

“Tell me we’re gonna find some common ground.”

“I hope so as well or this month might be laborious.”

The pair fell into silence, the afternoon’s end throwing pink shadows on the road’s surroundings. McCree put the top down, turning his cap around, prompting Hanzo to make a sour face in front of “such poor taste”. The man grabbed a pen and rolled his hair in a bun, fixing it with the ball-point, explaining he didn’t like his hair’s texture if he let it be moved around by the wind for too long. “The texture of it irritates me, it’s neither tangled nor filthy, but they hold a strange feeling to the touch.” He stated, as a matter of fact, putting on round sunglasses, as Jesse’d done moments prior.

“If it suits you, that’s fine by me. In other news, you’ve seen Winston’s memo : we’ll be sleeping at Manitou Springs and explore them tomorrow at dawn.”

“Let’s start cautiously, he is right.”

“It’d be a shame if our climber fell on the first day because of bad lighting.”

McCree was playing with his fingers on the steering wheel, hearing Hanzo sigh.

“You can’t help it, can you ?”

“What’s that ?”

“Bothering me.”

“That’s called bonding, you should try it sometimes.”

Hanzo looked to the other side, watching the road pass before his eyes, making the other scoff.

“Too early, is that it ? I guess I won’t suggest taking our night off and enjoy the hotel’s springs.”

“You are right in not offering it.” Hanzo replied, eyes amused.

They stopped during their ride to buy themselves dinner for when they’d be at the hotel, both of them lost in thoughts, sobered up by the approaching danger.

“What time window do you think we have here ?” McCree asked, at some point, eyes focused on the highway, absent-mindedly chewing on a cigarillo.

“I don’t know. A week at most if they haven’t understood Guilliams warned us.” Hanzo pensively bit his lip, a finger hovering where his tattoo started under his shirt. “If we want to buy more time, we categorically need to keep low profiles, blend in, act like we haven’t been dispatched as the agents we are but like we are enjoying a trip.”

“A road trip then.” He lit up his cigarillo, scoffing. “How American.”

“I could not have said it better.”

“So, we need a cover in that case.”

“We don’t need to go that far, I think; exploring areas at dawn and dusk should be enough, and you’re already…” He dismissively waved two fingers in his direction. “...as local as it gets.”

“Ain’t a lie. It’s not like I can’t show my friend around. Too bad we’re gonna have to take some good time so we won’t blow our mission up to shit…”

“You are thinking about the springs, aren’t you ?” Hanzo answered, tone telling he’d given up on this part, but fingers seizing the cigarillo and putting it off in the ashtray.

“What was that !?” McCree snapped his head towards him for a second, disgruntled.

“A compromise. We go to your idiotic springs and you spare me of your awful tobacco until the end of the trip.” He replied, defiant.

“Awful ? That’s premium vanilla tobacco for you, I’ll give you awful !” His tone was edging on angry, but a look on his face told he was already thinking about relaxing for the night.

He’d strolled in, smirking at everyone, the pinnacle of indiscretion, checking in for the both of them, practically hovering to the trunk to get his bags and back to the elevators.

“How’s that for casual ? I’m your everyday tourist, just happy to be dumb and about to bath in heavenly springs.”

“At least, a part of your sentence was true.” Hanzo answered, hands clutched around his luggage as they walked down their aisle.

“Your key. Mine.” He said, handing him the object.

And on that, he got inside his room, letting a dumbfounded agent staring at a closed door. Hanzo was starting to question the man’s sanity. He couldn’t have guessed he’d find him in _ his _ room when he unlocked his door.

“We have connecting rooms. I made sure of that with the employee downstairs. Charming fella. I think we shouldn’t be entirely cut out from each other at any time if we’re to be tracked down as well, at some point.” McCree walked around, making himself at home, a man of many missions, too many days on the road, finding in every room the essence he needed to feel enough at home. He sat on the bed Hanzo’d been about to sit on.

Hanzo sat on the desk’s chair.

“I agree. As tedious as you can get, I don’t want you dead.”

He received a mocking shocked face in return. “You don’t want me dead ? Is that what I heard ? Damn, take the man out of his natural environment and he softens up. Incredible!”

Sighing, he muttered a few japanese curses, closing his eyes.

“We ought to set up a code between us, to avoid supplementary risks of getting attacked. The door opens without it, and we will know something’s off.” Seeing Jesse wasn’t answering, he went on. “What do you think of this one ?”

Tapping a precise series of knocks on the table, his ally repeated it a few times, nodding.

“Seems fair.”

Hanzo did not join McCree that night to the springs, focused on their upcoming mission, on his task at hand, taking time to meditate before getting some rest. He took his phone out, composing a message.

“Join me, ready to go at 4AM. Goodnight, S.”

The night was short, the man waking up multiple times, anxious of unknown noises, hand ready to tuck his knife out of his ankle. His alarm went of, and, immediately, he was on edge, ready for what was awaiting him ; he took a quick shower, filling a sports bag with his night vision glasses and the rest of his equipment.

He checked his watch : 3.59AM.

Standing straight, he waited, deeply breathing, collected if not slightly irked; waited until the clock indicated 4.05. Knocking on their common door, he didn’t receive an answer and decided to barge in, if anything had happened.

McCree was whistling to himself, towel around his hair, jeans loosely put on, a shirt not required ; he caught Hanzo eyeing him, an eyebrow raised, and was about to joke about it when the other spoke up.

“You are not ready.” And as McCree lifted his finger, about to answer, he added. “I said 4AM, not before, nor after. We have little time to be discreet about trying to find a secret lab in this moist place before the sun rises.”

Few people roamed the streets this early in the morning : local deliverers, storekeepers up and preparing their day. They quickly walked by them, infiltrating the cliff dwellings, using their components to try and locate any peculiar signal. When nothing showed up on their detectors, they took out their triangulation device, waiting together, crouched in a desertic space, until they saw a faint point, absolutely not where they were at the moment.

“That’s peachy. I love it.” McCree said in a yawn.

“Guilliams provided wrong intel, we’re losing time. Do you think Talon could’ve set the leaked transmission up ?” Hanzo added, grim.

“Can’t tell, but I know this means we’re on our own then.” He answered, lighting a cigarillo, pushing his goggles up, making him look like a rogue scientist.

“Back to the beginning. Should we head to the signal ?”

“Where’s it?”

Hanzo rummaged through his bag, taking the map out and laying it down on the dusty ground. 

“According to our map and the triangulation, something is emitting from Black Hawk. Do you know the area?”

“Black Hawk and Central City, yeah. They got back on their feet in the nineties thanks to casinos. Used to be mining towns but they burned to the ground, in the end, around the beginning of the last century, something like that.” He’d sat on a rock nearby, legs sloppily opened as he watched the sun rise. “I guess we oughta find abandoned tunnels or some shit like that.”

“How delightful.” He replied, putting his map away.

“That’s a two hours ride away from here. We should start moving.” Rubbing his face, he jerked his head to the side, leading the way as Hanzo followed a few feet behind.

The car ride wasn’t as nice as it’d first been, both of them disappointed by their false trail. Hanzo slept for most of it, McCree turning the radio on, humming to old tunes as they aired. They both knew it was going to take some time, but still, they’d started on the wrong foot.

Hanzo asked about Denver’s baseball team when they passed by the city, to which Jesse’d scoffed and answer “Oh they’re bad ; they’re so bad.”

“How would you know after being away for this long ?” The other frowned.

“Used to watch satellite retransmissions, and they would be so utterly defeated every time ; damn, I felt sorry for these poor fellas. They’re nice but they’re not worth a penny.”

“I see.”

“Why’s that ?” He glanced at the other who still had his eyes closed and chose not to answer. “Shimada. Do you like baseball, you, the cold and aloof sniper ?”

“Bowman, it is, gunslinger.” He only hissed.

“It’s not an answer.”

“I had taken a liking to it when I was younger ; you may know it is a fairly important sport in my country.”

“Sure is, man ; you could join when the World Series are around.”

The silence he received didn’t entirely seemed like a refusal, and so he decided to try again when the time came.

Black Hawk was pittoresque, brick buildings having replaced the burned ones a century prior ; making it look like a fake town, only there to sustain the multiple casinos.

Jesse took his cap off, pushed Hanzo to attach his hair in a loose bun to look relaxed and ready to gamble all their savings.

The Japanese man discretely took his triangulation device out, activating it, until it concentrated on a spot a few miles downtown.

“Used to have a fink ‘round here, back in the Deadlock days. She’d told me the Monarch casino had a tunnel escape in case of a robbery, and, serves us right, it’s next to this nice cliff, and especially next to your signal.”

“How convenient. We could play for a bit, it seems we’re not so unlucky after all, McCree.” Hanzo smirked at him, head slightly bowed towards the device in his bag, glancing.

Huffing, Jesse patted Hanzo on the back, wary of an extreme reaction that didn’t come.

“I think I’m wrapping my mind around your humor.”

The casino wasn’t swirling with tourists, but it was crowded enough to make them go unnoticed, Jesse discreetly prompting his teammate to ease off and act natural over and over again. He finally stopped when his eyes shot daggers at him. 

His informer had been right about her tip, a door behind the kitchen’s storehouse ; McCree picked it up under five minutes, Hanzo guarding the corridor as he unlocked the passage. Metallic corridors surrounded them, making it harder for the device to pick a signal up. After groping around for awhile, they finally found another hidden door embedded in a wall, directly leading to a dusty path dug into the cliff itself.

“Looks like we hit the jackpot.” Jesse whispered, slowly advancing in the darkened alley.

“I’m reading no thermic presence. Maybe we’re wrong.” Hanzo replied, unsure.

“Don’t be so pessimistic.” He sighed.

They kept on walking until they’d started to lose track of time when their feet hit steel.

“See. I was right.” McCree winked at him, eliciting no reaction whatsoever in Hanzo.

Watching his screen, he blinked a few times, sighed, and put his night vision goggles on.

“The place has been deserted for a while, you were partly correct. Let us move on, see if we can gather anything.”

Not waiting for an answer, he kneeled on the ground, asking for McCree to turn on electricity, as he unplugged the ethernet cable from the computer in the room. Once it was done, he turned it on, cut off from any access to the internet, and started rummaging through files and emails. 

“This merely was a relay; it seemed they shared Denver’s communications through this outpost but abandoned it around two weeks ago if I am to believe the emails that were last sent from here.”

“Shit. Can you get the recipient’s IP ? We’ll send it to Hana and Lucio, it could be a great lead.” McCree bounced back, still hopeful.

“Already copied. Have you found anything else ?”

“Other than the logo of a Mexican skull, nada.”

Hanzo blinked.

“Nothing.”

“Understood. Let us leave this place then.”

They’d driven out of town, weary of their day, stopping between Black Hawk and Georgetown in a cheap motel, too tired to fight for connected rooms, agreeing on a double beds’ one. McCree had tried to convince Hanzo into eating barbeque ribs, but the man had only agreed in getting a spicy steak, still disgusted by the other’s eating habits.

The motel was one of those cruddy U-shaped constructions, including two stories, where each room gave on a dried up used-to-be-garden, indulging ice machines and coffee pots in its corners.

Night had fallen when Hanzo had left the room, sitting on their story’s guardrail, looking at a young man texting downstairs, riding a plastic pool chair. He snapped out of his thoughts when McCree appeared next to him, handing him a coffee cup, leaning against the barrier.

“Kind of a unique feeling, ain’t it?” He spoke in a low voice.

Hanzo turned his head around, picking the cup up, but staying silent.

“This whole place in the middle of nowhere, I mean.” He added.

“I like how the walls are still hot.” He answered, as discreetly as the other had spoken.

“It sure feels nice. The ice machine’s whirr is hypnotizing as well.”

“And the cars’ pattern in the distance.” He followed.

“I loved having a fag, sitting against a wall in the middle of the night when I still rode with Deadlock. The gas’ smell and the whole atmosphere made it surreal. Mind if I smoke ?” McCree had turned around, forearms on the guardrail, centimeters away from his teammate. The other man kept on drinking his coffee ; he took it as an agreement for his pastime.

“This brew is infect. How can you drink it ?” His nose was scrunched up and he looked absolutely disgusted as he insisted on sipping his beverage.

“You’ll get used to that as well, it’s part of the motel’s charm package. Poor in taste but high in caffeine; it fills you with quite the nervousness and desperation you need to keep on having that insane road trip we’ve started.”

“I will take your word on it. Are we to stay here until we receive an answer from Hana and Lucio ?”

“We sure are.”

Hanzo hummed, gesturing McCree to give him his cigarillo.

“Hand it over.” 

“If it’s to rudely put it off again, I’ll pass.” He replied, shaking his head.  
“Do not make me repeat myself.”  
McCree obliged, worried, only to see the man take a long puff.  
“I thought you found it horrid.” He smiled, confused.  
“I might be getting used to it.” He replied, smiling as well, slowly exhaling, the smoke drifting and swirling around him.  
“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”  
Jesse grinned, watching him take a drag.  
“I am not, as you would say, a choir boy.” 

The look on his face was unreadable, floating between mischievous and sad.  
“You sure ain’t a mama’s boy, I’ll give you that.” He laughed, picking the cigarillo from his fingers. “How ‘bout we share ?”

“This reminds me of younger days, back in Hanamura.”

The man looked past the garden, over the buildings, somewhere along the skyline, McCree observing his face, defined jaw clenching and unclenching nervously.

“How so ?”

“Back then, we used to sneak out, climb on the city’s rooftops and watch the night sky. If we were to be adventurous, we would get cosy, overhung the main street, mesmerized by the cars’ lights, moving, unstoppable. Those” he continued. “were times before I had to handle the clan’s responsibilities, before I grew up.”

“What happened with Genji, then, if the two of you were close ?” He attempted asking, Hanzo pursing his lips, eyes fluttering.

“It is none of your concern.”

And on this, he got off the guardrail, seizing Jesse’s cup and his to refill them.

“We’ll see each other in our room.”

McCree stayed behind, realizing he might’ve prodded a little too much to Hanzo’s taste, and decided to give him some space. The man wasn’t that bad when you were stuck with him. It was obvious remorse and regret were his daily burdens, plus, you couldn’t miss the fact he was socially butterfingered. He could even maybe become likeable if you got under his skin. He gave it a thought ; being friends with Shimada, interacting with him effortlessly, it seemed weird.

He took his phone out of his pocket.

_ To : Genji _

_ Howdy friendo, how’s it going back there ? Might seem to be coming out o’ nowhere but your brother maybe not be entirely that bad. _

He pressed _ sent _before even thinking about it. He’d left the base mumbling to the younger Shimida about how he’d lock his brother up in the trunk if he became too much of a nuisance, and how he’d have preferred to go on this mission with him instead. Genji’d answered that he would’ve loved it, but that he wasn’t what you could interpret as discrete.

_ From : Genji _

_ Just finished meditating, slept well, but i’m sadder without you to throw puns around. Is he threatening you to write this ? _

_ To : Genji _

_ I hope H and L will quickly answer, we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a lead here. I wish I could confirm this but if I did, he’d snap my neck. No, really, he doesn’t know how to take a joke, it’s kinda dorky. _

_ From : Genji _

_ Dorky. Really. _

_ From : Genji _

_ You’re worrying me. _

_ From : Genji _

_ What’s happening there, for Iris’ sake? _

_ To : Genji _

_ Forget it, as long as we don’t kill each other by the end of the mission, that’s fine by me. _

_ From : Genji _

_ =.= tbc then. _

_ To : Genji _

_ Tbc ? _

_ From : Genji _

_ To be continued ; you never text H or what _

_ To : Genji _

_ Ok, that’s enough, take care and go throw some shurikens or something, cya. _

_ From : Genji _

_ I’ll see if I can speed things up with H and L _

Sighing, he walked back to his room, knocking as they’d agreed, only to find his coffee waiting on his nightstand, Hanzo drying his hair off after taking a shower, hair falling around his shoulders. He should ask him sometime why he never let it like that ; it suited him, softened his features.

“You can wash, I will stay alert if anything comes up.” He spoke, hair hiding his face as he rummaged through his bag, looking for something.

“Sure thing.”

  



	2. — 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You seem restless.”  
“I’m thinking of old days.”  
“The burden of them.” Hanzo answers, and his voice is sad as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is becoming way bigger than first planned omg, I don't even know how I'm going to wrap my mind around this whole road trip but it's going well, I already have another chapter ready and working on the next one. I'm working on another fandom's fic so I can juggle between works. Anyways. I'm writing for a dead fandom, ain't I?  
Hope you're liking it so far.

It wasn't even nine in the morning and the atmosphere already was scorchingly hot. Hanzo was picking at some soggy fruits as breakfast and oatmeal at a local restaurant as McCree indulged himself with pancakes as they waited for answers. Hanzo looked disgusted with the food they were faced with, bun loose around his pen, strands of hair floating around his face, and McCree would have gladly helped if he was sure he wouldn't have lost his fingers in the process. 

"This country cannot even have fresh fruits. This is an aberration." He sighed, and McCree's already lost the count of them since he'd set foot in the States. 

McCree was thinking about how loose hair down suited Hanzo better than his usual austere ponytail, felt like he'd seen something intimate the night prior while not regretting it one bit. 

"When do you think we'll have an answer?" Hanzo asked, fork playing with what looked like a skinned white peach. 

"Should be in any minute now, they're fast when they want to be, and they wouldn't let you dying surrounded with carbs and grease."

Hanzo clicked his tongue at him but he didn't look very annoyed, at least, significantly less than he used to be a couple days before. Maybe he really was warming up to his humor. 

It took another ten minutes and a handful of Hanzo's complaints, plus a coffee refill, before they received an email. 

"We got the trail. The signal came from around the Road 119, lad."

"Do not call me lad." Hanzo stared at him. 

"Shimada-san."

And now there was murder in his eyes. 

"Do not even think about that either, you white cracker."

"I love how you pick your fights when it comes to colloquial idioms." McCree snorted, picturing Hanzo scrolling on an equivalent of Urban Dictionary. 

"I learn the useful ones." He replied, deadpanned. "Anyway, McCree, we need to map the place out." He said, unfolding said map on their table. You said they picked up a signal from some point on Route 119? If we are to follow the triangulation, the safest place for them, away from the human eye, would maybe be that lake."

McCree'd squinted at the map.

"Grand Lake? Seems logical. They don't seem to have picked up on us, but if we indeed find a router there, they'll know we're tracking their asses."

"Let them know, then. We are trained." His tongue'd pushed against his cheek and McCree was impressed by his calm, had to admire it.

"You right."

"We shouldn't be wary of Talon's sniper, she's been spotted in Namibia yesterday, according to Reinhardt's message I just received."

"Great. Less of a nutter." 

"You have a foul mouth."

"I thought you'd said you weren't a choir boy?"

"I still have some respect for myself."

"Oh boy." McCree laughed. "It ain't easy being with you."

"I'm getting used to your running babbles, you should be grateful."

And then, McCree noticed that Hanzo was smiling at him, a real one, not that tight lipped one but something that looked sincere even over the disgust caused by squishy fruits. 

They decided on a compromise for the trip. Shimada earned the right to put some music on , but only if it was rock. He played Japanese bands, including the Peachskins that McCree found himself liking more than predicted. Hanzo's tastes weren't that bad, he'd told him, and that had made him smirk. 

"Of course. I'm not tasteless."

He didn't say Jesse was, and there were progresses made here, he noted. 

The scenery was amazing, green, with mountains in the background, and if Jesse wasn't the one driving, he would've snapped a couple pictures of it. Nature surrounded them as they passed by a couple small towns, and McCree was happy with the trip, figuring it they could’ve had much worse as a setting than this; hell, he remembered Siberia.

Hanzo was focused on their triangulation device, and he confirmed they were getting closer from the signal with every mile taken further.

“Say, Shimada.” McCree suddenly spoke. “Is the router waterproof?”

“Why is that?”

“I think we might have to swim a little.” He said, as they arrived to Grand Lake, a magnificent lake surrounded by pine trees and mountains looming in the background; an ideal scenery for a road trip, which they kind of were on.

“Indeed. The signal comes from the center. Do you have a bathing suit?”

“Do I look like I pack for Colorado without one?”

Hanzo sighed.

“Of course you do. You’ll be the one exploring then. I’ll hide with my bow to survey the area.”

“Great. At least I shouldn’t get headshot out of the blue.”

“Unless they hired another one.” Hanzo said, matter-of-factly.

“Comforting thoughts.” McCree bitterly laughed.

Undressing in the middle of the forest, Hanzo turned around, giving him some privacy. 

A couple minutes later, McCree spoke again.

“And, we’re set!”

When Hanzo looked over his shoulder, he couldn’t help snorting at McCree wearing goggles.

“What? Gotta see where I’m heading.”

“You look absolutely ridiculous. It’s Stetson-level of ridiculous.”

“I won’t pick that one up, okay?”

He’d headed for the lake with mild-confidence, until his toes had touched the water and he’d realized it was freezing.

“God I hate this job.” He said, more to himself than anything, and he heard Hanzo softly barking out in laughter behind him.

Exploring underwater was painful: he had to mind his breath, the way his surroundings could hide anything, and the cold, boy, the fucking cold. It took him half-an-hour and the fear of losing a toe before he found what he was looking for in between algaes: a red signal emitting from a luminous dot. He’d found the router that had linked the first hide-out to wherever they had to go next. If anything, maybe Hana would be able to see where it had been emitting to, if there had been any other places linked to it. It would take some time, though. 

Trembling, as he came out of the water, he saw Hanzo looking at him, both amused and carefully proud of the result of his searches. 

"Not that bad."

He handed him a towel, safe and sound in his dry clothes, bow tucked back in the trunk of his car. 

"I did some research while you were paddling and I thought that I would indulge you into a nice resort. There are hot springs not that far away from here. We could rest there while waiting for Hana's answer."

"You drivin'? Feeling like I could use a nap right now."

He finished drying himself off, putting back his clothes on, and put his wet hair in a soaking bun he hid under his cap. 

"You really look like a local." Hanzo said, snarling at his Denver baseball cap. 

"Thanks."

Hanzo took the wheel, driving easy and confident, as Jesse let himself rest for a while after sending their last intel back to the team.

When he woke up, half-an-hour later, he found his companion humming to a slow tune coming out from the car’s speakers. He didn’t open his eyes for a minute. It sounded peaceful, unlike the coiled reserve he harboured everywhere with him as a protection towards the others.

“I know you’re awake.” He stopped singing.

“How?” McCree tipped the hem of his cap up.

“Your breathing changed. Don’t take me for an amateur.”

McCree snorted.

“Alright champ’. Where are we?”

“Halfway.”

They didn’t talk for a while.

“It reminds me of Mungyeong Saejae, in Korea. I went there once, for a family mission. The trees were shadowing everything, and inspired me respect. I feel the same way here.”

McCree nodded, not knowing what to say at first, realizing it was Hanzo opening up to him.

“I’ve always loved that part of the country, all untamed and luxuriant, various in its shapes and forms.”

Hanzo hummed.

“I wish we could go to these places without such sordid aims.”

“Saving the world, you mean?” 

“With possible death in mind, I mean.”

“Yeah. I know.” It had sobered them both up. “I wish that too.”

“Let us enjoy the time we have between the outposts. Have we received news about Guilliams?”

“He sent me a text saying they were sending us the location files from every useful outpost they could think of.”

“Good enough.”

Jesse took on himself and decided to tell him more about himself.

“Back in the days, before Deadlock, I used to come around with friends and we’d stay around Blue Mesa, freely diving, swimming, drinking, living our best summers. I have fond memories of this state.”

“Let us hope we don’t tarnish those, then.” Hanzo gave him a faint lopsided smile while McCree untucked his hair and tried unknotting them with his fingers.

Shimada's grip on the wheel was tranquil, assured. 

"Ask Hana how long we should lay low."

"On it."

Jesse typed out a message and instantly received an answer.

"She thinks she needs two days to crack everything."

"That's long. Hope your springs are any good because the humidity is starting to make my knees hurt."

"I wish I could laugh but my arm's hurting like a bitch."

They entered the resort's registery cabin half an hour later, charged with their bags, weary.

"Hello sirs, have you made a reservation?" The man behind the desk asked, chubby, cheeks comically round, like a character from any animated series and a small moustache adorning his face. He looked like a decent man, Jesse decided.

"Under McAlister." Hanzo said and Jesse nodded, smiling. 

"Great. Here are your keys. I'll let you pay half the fee now as a guarantee if this is okay with you, sirs."

Hanzo nodded and handed one of the team's forged cards directly linked to one of their accounts in Gibraltar. 

"You'll have cabin 5, here are your keys and enjoy your stay, sirs." The man smiled at them again, benevolent. 

Said cabin was entirely made with wood, a front porch adorned with a rocking bench; to put it short, it was charming. The inside followed the same idea, cozy interior with wooden pine furniture. 

But—

"Why is there only a bedroom, Shimada?"

"I chose the easiest cabin to escape from in case of an ambush, McCree." Hanzo replied, back to him, unpacking his bag on their bed. 

McCree sighed but didn't comment further on it. He'd had worse places to sleep in during his life, he wasn't about to complain because he were to sleep with Hanzo. 

"Makes sense."

"How about we try your springs out instead of babbling?"

Jesse snorted.

"Fine by me."

The springs were almost empty at this time of the day, so Hanzo managed not to attract too much attention with his clan tattoo when they got in one of the springs. 

The water was deliciously hot and instantly relaxed them, especially McCree after spending so long in freezing water. 

They felt their muscles untighten, their eyelids drooping close, and they let go, if only for a moment, forgetting they were men on a mission, risking their lives. 

McCree had spent enough summers like these with his friends to not be ashamed of his body nor of others, so he stared, and intently looked at Shimada's tattoo. He looked at the way it curled over his pectoral, and snaked down from his shoulder to his wrist. It was a true piece of art.

"In Japan, I couldn't go to most _onsens_ because of it." Hanzo'd followed his stare. "You don't cleanse yourself tattooed. Some places accept, others don't; some will because you're a Shimada." 

"You're liking this?"

And Hanzo hummed, nodding. 

"Feels good, letting my guard down even for a moment."

"You picked an escape-proof cabin, Hanzo."

"Better safe than dead."

"It's _ than sorry _, the idiom."

"And I meant _ dead _, Jesse."

McCree plunged underwater for a second. 

"Even when you let your guard down, you still ain't very chill."

"I am calmer."

"Not the same thing."

"Are you complaining about my attitude?" Hanzo asked, half-smiling-half-menacingly.

"Me? I'd never do that."

And it made them both laugh. 

Back to their cabin, they were both feeling much more at ease with themselves as they waited for a word from their team back in Gibraltar.

_ From what I'm seeing, another signal came from further west. Your trip isn't over guys. _ Is what Hana sent them right after they'd finished eating. _ Will come back to you as soon as I learn more. Cya. _

"West means we're going towards the canyons, Hanzo."

"I will have to climb, is that it?"

"Maybe."

"I better rest early then."

He found Hanzo shirtless in their single bed half-an-hour later, reading a book on his phone.

“What is it?” He asked, when McCree raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know we’re going through hell together but let’s maybe give each other a little privacy?”

Hanzo snarled, amused.

“I have never put on a shirt on to sleep and will not start for anyone, especially not for you.”

McCree raised his second brow.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet; you’re stuck with me.”

It made McCree bark out a laugh.

“You’re right, you weird man.”

"You’re one to talk."

Hanzo’d proceeded to lay on his back, straight like a picket fence, not looking comfortable at all, arms crossed on his torso.

“Counting on sleeping like a mummy, cowboy?” McCree asked, slipping in bed with him.

“Don’t call me that, I’ve told you.”

“Still. You look like you’re going to die on me during the night.”

“Take care of your own business, gunslinger.” He answered, but still moved nonetheless, one of his arms moving behind his head and, fuck, the movement was hot, the way the muscle rippled under his skin.

McCree internally sighed.

It’d been like that for a while with Hanzo.

At first, it’d been hatred, he thought, trying to position himself on the side, thanking the queen size bed for at least being, well, queen-sized. His back was touching Hanzo’s side. It’d been pure hatred for a man who’d tried to kill one of his closest friends, and then, he’d learned about his past, about the weight of the clan on his shoulders, the guilt that had gripped at his throat for years and that he still tried to meditate away in the early mornings. The hate had faded into some kind of sadness for him, and the guilt he’d felt on his own for finding Genji’s aggressor's seductive had faded for a kind of faint longing, driven far, far away from his daily thoughts. At nights, though, those thoughts came back: the preciseness of his aim, the focus of his gaze, the rightness of his gait and the righteousness in his way of killing; they all were mesmerizing. Plus, he’d be lying if he didn’t say strong bearded men weren’t his jam. He had to concede that to himself.

Attraction was a thing, but not on their kind of team, especially not the refounded Overwatch. Things were different with Blackwatch, he remembered, tension release from the horrors they’d commit with Gabriel. But Overwatch? They didn’t do that, didn’t go into uncharted territories where the cohesion of the team could change. The new Overwatch wasn’t like that. He remembers Jack and Gabriel though, how woven together their spirits were and how Gabriel’s change of hearts had hurt him before everything went to hell. He remembered Ana and dearly missed the way she’d pat his hair, soothing, forgetful of the lives they took, resilient and strong with the lives they saved. He missed the old Overwatch, his comrades.

Making himself sad had at least taken away his thoughts from an half-naked Hanzo laying next to him. The man suddenly spoke.

“You seem restless.”

“I’m thinking of old days.”

“The burden of them.” Hanzo answered, and his voice was sad as well.

“There were good times. I think you would’ve liked Gabe, he was pretty forward, didn’t take no shit.”

“A bit like you then.”

“Smarter. But I take it as a way to tell that you don’t hate me that much then.”

He heard Hanzo snort beside him.

“Youth with Genji was sweet as well. I miss watching the city with him, talking about the deepest secrets our hearts harboured. I am not sure we will ever regain this level of trust because of me.”

And Jesse was glad for the dark to allow secrets to be spilled.

“I miss my dead team.”

“How were they?”

“Ferocious, brilliant, soothing. Too humane to be described with words. Genji would’ve funny stories to tell you ‘bout them. I usually try not thinking, it’s too painful.”

“I suppose there are wounds that never truly heal.”

“Zenyatta would’ve something to tell us about that, I’m sure of it.”

“Certainly.”

McCree turned on his back, and looked at Shimada’s form in the night. He saw his chest rise and fall, cover around his middle.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to forgive you.”

“I tried killing your friend. You didn’t know the full story.”

“I still want to apologize. It was unfair to you.”

“Thank you, then, Jesse.”

Silence fell back for a moment.

“I shouldn’t have thought of you as a ruffian idiot at first.”

“I know, I’m brilliant.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Ha. Thanks, though.”

Their conversation was faltering, flickering into the deep of the night.

“Night, Hanzo.”

“Goodnight, Jesse.”

They filled their day off with reading, physically and mentally resting, most of their day on the porch or in the springs. They felt like they’d need that rest soon enough.

That night, Hana sent them an encrypted message of the other hideout the router was connected to.

_ You’re going to prison, lol. _ The message started with. Reassuring. _ DW, it’s disaffected, it’s become a restaurant, but guess where the signal’s emitting from? You’re right! So you go and kick their asses. Then you should be able to reconnect the first outpost’s connexion. _

The place frustratingly was situated close to where they were two days prior. Hanzo and Jesse stared at each other.

“The respite is over.” Hanzo said, and loosened his bun, going to change into city attire once again.

His city fit, McCree thought, as Shimada was driving again, surprisingly suited him well. He looked like a healthy jogger, maybe, but a hot one, undeniably. 

“You know you could go casual like that back at the base, too.” McCree told him.

It made Hanzo snort.

“Sure.”

Two hours later, the bowman was deeply sighing in the face of the place they'd been travelling to. The router led to a barbeque and grill restaurant, tacky at best, with American flags flowing over a wooden architecture. 

"You're telling me this used to be a penitentiary?" He asked, dumbfounded. 

McCree only shrugged. 

"It's America, you know."

Using their device, the signal seemed to be emitting from underground again.

"Good thing we arrived after they closed. They don't seem to have that much security, ironically." McCree stated. 

"Let's go, then."

Lockpicking the backdoor, they silently entered the place and started looking around. It lasted, fruitlessly, for around half an hour until Hanzo found a dip in the ground. Sliding a panel door open, they found a descending staircase.

"Bingo." Jesse hushed. 

The place they discovered was abandoned as well, but it didn't seem as ran down as the previous one was. Instead, they found strange vials on one of the desks and transfusion material next to it.

"This is strange, since when has Talon been digging into the medicine field?" 

But McCree shivered instead of answering.

"We need to contact the team ASAP. There might be someone dangerous on their side we didn't know about."

They found the initial signal blocker there and destroyed it, the sound of it reverberating in the room.

"You seem like you've seen a ghost." Hanzo tells McCree once they got out of there. 

"Maybe."

"I'm driving, you're not doing anything in that state."

"We're not stopping until the canyons tonight Hanzo. Time's against us if I'm right. We need to find the closest motel there is to the outpost and contact the team."

"Will you tell me?"

"Can you drive while I'm holding a phone conference with the others?"

"Don't underestimate me."

So, that's what they did, McCree unfolded the roof of the car to better muffle the outside noises and called Gibraltar.

"Winston."

"This line is for emergencies, Jesse, it better be important."

"Bring everyone in the conference room, _ now _, especially those of the old team."

"Give me a minute."

They painstakingly waited until Winston gave them his go. 

"We destroyed our first blocker today and will see what's going on with the Glenwood canyon outpost tomorrow, but we found some worrying evidence in their hiding spot."

"What was it?"

McCree began to describe what they'd seen.

"It reminds me of—" He heard Mercy, faintly, on the other side of the line.

"Yes, there was purple residue, like her old testings had."

"But she vanished after the accident."

"Guess she's back, and not on our side."

"What goes on?" He could make out Lucio's voice. 

"Moira, she was our head-scientist before the end of the first Overwatch."

"She was a bit—well. Science came first and foremost. She was on Blackwatch with us, and she—she experimented on us. Before everything went to shit, she was working on in-battle healing solutions and ways to soothe our missing limbs' phantom pain."

"How bad is it that she's with Talon now?" Hanzo asked. 

"Bad enough as it is, but I have a worse hunch about it than just her fucking around with scientific shit." 

"How are you feeling, Jesse?" Genji said over the line.

"Feels like I've seen a ghost. It's been years, man."

"Now we have to uncover what the purpose of shutting down the outposts is and the involvement of this Moira, is that it?" Hanzo inquired, and McCree hummed.

"Vacation's over, Hanzo."

Shimada clicked his tongue.

"We'll get back at y'all later, we're trying to find a motel close to the Glenwood outpost."

"Great. Stay in touch." Winston replied before hanging up. 

As soon as he did, McCree let out a long curse, palms digging into his sockets.

"Between her, their new hacker and that grim reaper of theirs, I'm starting to get the jitters."

"Do you think we could tumble on them?"

"Depends on what's going around there, but I've got a really bad feeling about it and it sits wrong in my stomach."

Hanzo hummed, looking at the road.

"We're going to drive you quickly to a motel and drink awful coffee over plan crafting."

"I like the sound of that better than my moping."

Hanzo laughed, crystal clear—as light as his deep voice permitted, and accelerated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come say hi!


	3. —3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where dead people resurface.

After drinking bitter tasting coffee on the side of a motel exterior wall, Hanzo decided that it still tasted bad but was somewhat addictive. 

"Ah!" McCree said, voice a bit smoother with this new piece of information. 

Learning about Moira's probable return had bummed him a lot, and it had taken multiple cigarillos the night prior to calm down a little, Hanzo smoking with him, the both of them staring at cars passing by the highway. 

"We're going to the canyons first thing in the morning." McCree had said, smoking hard enough to feel his lungs burn and his chest ache. 

"Yes."

The air smelled of gasoil and heat, everything muddled with the ice machine's sound, the entirety of the experience a whirlwind of summer.

"We'll have to see what they've tampered with but we need to find more clues, to be more thorough. Talon is much more than what we first thought." 

Hanzo didn't reply and put, instead, his hand on Jesse's shoulder.

"You can't do more for tonight. You need to rest."

His hand was large, engulfing, and for a second, McCree let himself forget what had transpired in the last hours.

"You're right. Let's go get showered."

There was something comforting in the way he saw Hanzo undress himself to go and shower, a tangible proof that he was here and alive, to assist him, with whom he formed a team, broad shoulders, tattoo eating at his shoulder blade. He was tangible and smelled like petrichor after their trip. 

When he woke up, Hanzo handed him a cup of fuming coffee, another one in his hand.

"It's disgustingly delicious." He stated, and McCree snorted, yawning right after.

"I checked the breakfast options and there only are some of those soggy cereals. I guess we will have to go with them since it's the only solution." And he looked like he dreaded that fact with his whole heart. 

"We're not going on a mission without eating, Hanzo."

"I know."

When they finally started their car, the sun was advancing in the sky and McCree was glad for his light shirt and random cap. Hanzo had changed for sports leggings and a grey tank top. He only needed a feeding bar tucked somewhere in a pouch to complete the look. 

The road was green and verdurous, canyon digging shapes in the unequal cliffs sitting atop of a river that followed the road. McCree took his time, even with everything, to take the scenery in, Hanzo breathing deeply in next to him, taking advantage of the nature around them. 

Once they arrived at the top of the outpost's cliff, they entered via a hatch. The granite had been dug around them to form a secured bunker from everyone else. 

Inside, they found booby traps every couple steps, mines tucked in every blind-eye corner, virus ready to destroy files on computers as soon as the wrong password would be typed in. 

They suddenly heard a noise farther in the room. Hanzo sent McCree a signal and they both put themselves in a position of ambush, walking towards the noise.

"Shit." They heard a female voice and fingers quickly clicking on a keyboard. Before McCree could throw a stun grenade, she turned around and a Latina woman faced them, brown and purple hair floating around her head as she turned it towards them. "Fuck. Sombra out." She snapped her fingers and under a flurry of digital skulls, she seemed to disappear from their sight. Hanzo followed her steps and shot a sonic arrow, hoping to catch her but she was not in sight; he had to rely on the sound of her footsteps. They led to the cliff hanging from the bunker. He ran to it only to see Sombra reappear, pressing a button and disappearing into thin air. 

"What the fuck was that?" McCree screamed from where he was standing while Hanzo's shoulders sagged. 

"Our hacker. She let her card." 

A skull card had been left on the ground. 

"Fuck. Fuck, it's not our week."

"Let's copy all the data for Hana and Winston to analyse it." 

They spent a good portion of the day taking care of copying the encrypted files and any traces left by the hacker before she'd left. 

"It's no use. The place is compromised. We have to tell Guilliams." Hanzo ended up sighing in the middle of the afternoon.

"What next, then?"

"We still have four more outposts to check."

"You right. Let's triangulate this shit and get to the bottom of this."

Back to the surface, they analyzed the situation and realised the closest outpost would be in Grand Junction, hours away from there and that they needed to find the signal scrambler before that. 

"Let's stay in Aspen for the night." McCree said and they stared at the triangulation device, indicating a zone further south Aspen.

"It seems like a sound idea. I wouldn't say no to a good bed tonight, I'm a bit ruffled by today's mine tracking."

"Sure. We'll find a nice hotel."

Said hotel didn't have more than a king-sized bed. It would do.

"We need to get closer." Hanzo said, sitting shirtless on their bed and McCree tried not getting distracted, even though he could've used some given the circumstances.

"Now that we're in Aspen, looks like it's coming from the west, around Needle Rock."

"The far north-west part of the Gunnison forest?"

"Exactly." Their fingers traced a circle around the areas where the scrambler could be. 

McCree couldn't sleep again that night.

"Thinking about them again?"

"Yeah. Memories I didn't want to see resurface again. And that hacker, she seems cunning." 

"She does. You're anxious."

"I am, physically. There are only two of us, and we don't know how many they are."

"Does contact scare you?"

McCree blanked out for a second.

"What do you mean?"

"You need to stay grounded. You are out of it, right now. I am asking if I can somewhat hug you. It's not really a hug, more of an assisted respiratory technique but it's easier to say it's a—hug."

It would've made McCree laugh in another situation.

"No. No, it's fine. Go ahead. You're right, I feel myself slipping and we can't afford that."

He felt Hanzo scooting closer in bed and pressing himself against his back, a hand coming over his waist to situate around his plexus, palm extended. 

"Okay." Hanzo said in a low voice. "You're going to listen to me and follow my instructions." 

McCree nodded, respiration shallow. 

"Focus on the feeling of my hand on your chest. Breathe in, feel how it fits into it, breathe out and feel how it pans out around your skin. Breathe in—and out. Feel the way it affects your entire body, from your lungs to your stomach—to your abdomen, your hips—your thighs. Feel how the air circulates around your body and you are nothing more than an object that exists on this planet. Feel the way your head is heavy on your pillow—how the weight of my hand is a reassuring certainty of our presence here. Breathe in—You're doing great—and out."

McCree had rarely heard him talk for that long but it worked, he felt himself relax, body going slack against Hanzo's and he soon lost track of what he was saying as he fell asleep like that. 

That night, he dreamed of Hanzo. He wasn't sure of what, but he dreamed of his presence. It was agreeable. 

When he woke up, their limbs were tangled, and Hanzo's arm was secured around his middle. They'd spent the night like that. 

McCree didn't move for a while but knew Hanzo would know if he woke up, so, instead, he turned around to face Hanzo. The man slept with his hair down, strands covering parts of his face, making him look vulnerable. His tattoo was even more beautiful from up close. 

He reminded himself he wasn't there for feelings, that getting attached had only hurt him in the past, losing his close ones. 

Hanzo cracked an eye open. They were close. 

"Hey." McCree rasped our and Hanzo groaned. 

"You're thinking about something." 

None of them had moved, Hanzo's arm still tucked against Jesse's waist, pressed against one another as if it were the most normal position to be in.

"Not all of the forest is accessible by car. We need hiking shoes. Also goods to eat on the way there."

"The full American experience." Hanzo sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to fall back asleep before McCree's soft laughter made him snap his eyes open again.

"You don't look that bad before your first coffee in the morning, gunslinger." And it made Jesse faintly blush, feeling like kissing him to shut him up. It wasn't the place nor the time. And, Hanzo, showing interest? Unlikely. But McCree kept that fact in a corner of his head and tried something. 

He snuggled closer, nuzzling into Hanzo's collarbones.

"I just want my coffee to be honest, otherwise I'm going to fall back asleep."

Hanzo had frozen around him, breathing controlled. 

"Get up, then." 

"Want something?"

"Fresh fruits and good rice. That's all I ask from this world."

McCree disentangled himself from Hanzo and instantly missed the softness of his skin, the feeling of his body around his.

"On my way then." He said, throwing some clothes on. "Oh and—" he started, waiting to have Hanzo's attention. "—thanks for last night."

"It only was tradition. Don't worry about it."

Out in the city, he found a Korean market with fruits and ready-to-eaten fried rice. He supposed it would be good enough and came back to their hotel while making a detour via a Starbucks for a triple espresso shot latte, indulging a sweet tooth Hanzo frowned upon as soon as he smelled it when he came back to their room. 

Good food seemed to appease him though: he hadn't seen him that rested and cheerful in days since they'd started that trip. 

"Finally feeling human again. The opposite of Dazai, as my uncle would've put it if we still we're on speaking terms."

McCree stared at him in a way that made clear he didn't and couldn't get the reference.

"Dazai. He wrote  _ No Longer Human _ . Very depressing. It was a joke." 

"Ah. I appreciate the effort."

"Shut up."

But they were both smiling. 

"So, we're heading for the Black Canyon?"

"Yes, we are."

"Let's get ready then." 

They went and bought a tent for two and ridiculous hiking shoes that might find useful along the way.

Back in their car, Hanzo seemed to ponder as McCree revved the engines.

"What's their point, deactivating our outposts?" 

"I don't know, it feels like it's part of something bigger."

"I know you don't feel good about this."

"Indeed." 

"Let us uncover the truth then." 

Black Canyon was the perfect mix between rocks and luxurious plants, the perfect hiding spot, they discovered after rummaging around during a good part of the day. When they finally found the scrambler, the afternoon was nearing its end. 

They were covered in dust and soil, dirty. 

"What about we hit road 50 and look for a motel along the way?"

"It feels like we're going from motels to motels." Hanzo remarked. 

"They should sponsor us." McCree joked. "But really, road trips are often like that. Told you you'd get used to them."

"You were right. And then, what, tomorrow we go for the Grand Junction outpost and see if we can salvage it?" 

"Exactly. If it is possible, we'll have a tech from the external team go and put everything back on working, secured up."

The motel they stayed at was filled with motorcycle riders that seemed to be on a sort of pilgrimage, and Hanzo stared at them, confused until McCree tried explaining that it was a thing: biker trips. Hanzo processed the information with a cup of rancid coffee, nodding while watching in the distance. 

That night, they slept in bunker beds, uncomfortable, sweaty with the day's hot dampness that wouldn't disappear during the night, and exhausted by the bikers sounds outside their room. 

At least, the trip to Grand Junction was easy and relatively quick, the scenery still as stunning as they'd been used to. The city in itself was underwhelming, nothing amazing to nice, and maybe it was for the best, for a secret operation to have a base in. 

They found the outpost in the industrial part of the city, clean and ready to function again, left unfound by Talon who'd only managed locating its vicinity. 

To please Hanzo, they ate at a gluten-free vegetarian restaurant, trying to appease his hunger for healthy food, before taking the road to Salt Lake City from close to where the signal distortion was the strongest.

"Y'know where we heading?" McCree asks him, once he was driving, cocky, a bit reassured by the news of a safe outpost.

"Salt Lake City."

"Yes but—"

Hanzo hummed. 

"The city of Mormons! Don't you want to convert on your way there?"

"No thank you."

"Being able to have multiple wives!"

"Not interested."

"Girlfriends?"

Hanzo clicks his tongue.

"Not interested  _ in women _ , you thick-skulled man."

"Oh."

And that shut him up.

"You had never considered that possibility?" Hanzo asked, bewildered. 

"Strangely, not."

"How so, strangely?"

"Nothing. Should've thought about it." MCcree's mind went reeling. 

There was a weird kind of silence in the car. 

"And men?"

"I wish I could snap your neck right now." Hanzo sighed. "Yes, men."

Jesse shut up. He had lots of questions. 

"This five-hour trip is going to be a long one if you don't utter these foolish thoughts of yours. I can sense you trembling with things to ask."

But McCree's questions were too intimate, they're about him, about whether or not he'd ever thought about him that way, if he'd ever been attracted, if something could've—could happen with him.

"Just thought it'd be nice to tell you you ain't alone in the team buddy."

"Don't call me buddy."

Jesse loved calling him pet names fully knowing he hated them. 

"And I am not blind. You are not straight either."

"Ah, I got found out." McCree said, dramatically, head thumping against his car seat. "What gave me out?" 

"When you're trained, you can discern people's auras." Hanzo started, sounding deadly serious. "Yours give off three poles of different energies."

"Oh yeah?"

"Those of a killer, those of an idiotic man, and what you call gay vibes."

It made McCree bark out a laugh. 

"You're shitting me ain't you?"

"Of course I am." And McCree turned around to see his satisfied smirk. "I just felt it. That's all. Like Tracer."

"No but Tracer's obvious, and she has a girlfriend."

"It's not because you are a lone wolf that you're not obvious, McCree."

The road felt broader, easier to travel on now that it'd been cleared out of the way. The silence was still tense, but less weird.

"We have to be solitary in this job, or the losses are too hard to bear."

"I am alone, but not for the same reasons."

"You think you need to atone."

"I need to."

"You're getting closer to the others little by little."

"A little more everyday. But you—silly man, you act like you are amicable to everyone but keep your heart closed to anyone trying to get closer."

McCree bit his bottom lip.

"I've lost too much in this fight, too many people."

"You can't stay stuck in the past, McCree."

"Easy to say when you don't see ghosts. Before, in my nightmares, now, Moira's back. What do you want me to say?" He was heated, raw, vulnerable in a way he hadn't been in a while.

"You need to embrace these pains if you want to go on."

"You and Genji truly are brothers."

"Thank you."

He felt Hanzo's stare on him more than saw it.

"Your life is your call, people are waiting for your move, gunslinger. It's that or you will live and die alone."

"You're the worst person who could tell this to me."

"It hurts because I'm going through a similar process. You cannot joke your way out of it this time."

"Shit."

"Think about it. I’ll doze off now. Wake me up when you want to take turns in driving."

And McCree was left alone with his thoughts.

He was right though, he’d been pushing people away for years, had put some distance between him and his former teammates, worried growing closer would inevitably lead to their deaths. He remembered how close he used to be to Mercy, how they’d confide in each other and how he was the one listening now, evading her probings when she tried to learn more about his feelings.

Maybe he’d been wrong in doing so, for that exact reason. They only had a single life to live, and he maybe was wasting it, emotionally-wise.

He made Hanzo take the wheel two hours later, watching the scenery, silent.

Hanzo let him be.

When they arrived in town, there was jazz music floating around, and after a quick research, they discovered they’d arrived during an international annual jazz festival.

“Salt Lake City isn’t only known for its mormons then.” McCree said and started googling a bit.

“Ah! It’s the hometown of some brand of whiskey. Do you want to unwind a bit tonight?”

And Hanzo, surprisingly, hummed his agreement.

“Let’s settle down first.”

They checked in the hotel and found a bar not too far away from it, playing contemporary jazz. Ordering for them, McCree took a privy spot where they could listen to the band without being unable to chat. They drank in silence for a while, Hanzo looking fascinated.

“It’s nothing alike japanese jazz.” He’d said, at some point, and it’d made McCree laugh.

“Oh wait until I make you listen to Robert Johnson and make you discover blues then.” McCree replied, a hand bristling on Hanzo’s arm, the other tucked around his glass.

They’d listened to music for an hour or so before McCree brought back the subject on the table.

“I think you’re right and that pushing people away isn’t the solution.”

Hanzo nodded, a low hum coming out of him.

“Now you have to learn how to welcome them back in.” He answered, focused on the band.

They stayed late, drinking and infusing themselves with music, until they were drunk on both the sounds and the alcohol. They crashed more than walked back to their hotel room.

McCree’s mind was fuzzy, blissfully calmer than it’d been during the afternoon, and he thanked whisky for that. The shower helped sobering him up, but not that much, and he found himself staring, again, at Hanzo’s half-naked-and-ready-to-sleep form.

They only had a king-sized bed for the night and McCree hated it.

He slipped into it, next to him, while Hanzo was reading something on his phone, his other arm tucked behind his head.

“I feel exposed.” McCree said.

“You’re shirtless.” Hanzo replied, and Jesse huffed.

“I think I’m getting used to your kind of humor.”

“Great. I can’t stand yours, that’s a constant.”

“Great.”

“You feel exposed, then?” Hanzo picked up, discarding his phone to the side.

“Vulnerable.”

“You’re supposed to feel like that after the kind of conversation we had.”

“I hate this.”

“It’s not a weakness.”

“Bare yourself raw for me, as well, so we’re on equal footing.” McCree asked him, and Hanzo stared back at him, gaze undecipherable.

“I fled my clan.” Hanzo hushed. “Fled the murders, the conspirations, the guilt I felt; but I also fled a wife-to-be, an arranged marriage.” His voice was low, almost rippling against the pillows, and the subdued lights accompanied his story. “She was nice, but I had a lover, back there. Things went sour when I had to kill his cousin. It’s been hard to love, since then; I feel unworthy of trust.”

“So we have mirroring issues.”

“You could say that.”

“You don’t want to be loved, and I don’t want to love anymore. Is that it?”

Hanzo clears his throat.

“I think it is.”

A moment of silence flew between them. McCree gathered his courage.

“You know. I think you are someone trustworthy now. It took some time. And you are very attractive, for an asshole, so if you ever feel like being loved again, I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

Hanzo snorted, eyelids slightly dropping with a gentleness Jesse wasn’t used to with him.

“And I think you’ve got more love to give than you think.”

Jesse licked his lips, nodding.

“We should rest.”

They woke up, McCree’s arm tucked around Hanzo’s chest, leg folded over his, in a kind of drooly embrace he rolled out from when he emerged. He didn’t know if Hanzo’d noticed.

The scrambler had been hidden in City creek’s canyon, twenty minutes away from the city, and Hanzo had asked for a break, to meditate there for a while.

McCree spent the entire time staring at his profile, chest tight. He was thinking about the night prior’s discussion.

The outpost linked to the scrambler was only an hour away, tucked between the Wasatch mountains, and McCree sent a couple pictures of the scenery to the team back in Gibraltar. He even managed taking a selfie with a murderous-looking Hanzo.

McCree’s phone lit up again right after he’d sent them. It was Agent Guilliams.

_ Agents, the outposts attacks were a smokescreen! We received intel that they were preparing a chemical attack in Yellowstone! Large scale! You need to stop it ASAP, you're the closest and most skilled agents to take care of it.  _

"Fuck." McCree uttered. "Felt it."

"We have no time to waste. I will let you drive like a madman."

"Graciously offered." McCree said and Hanzo smiled at him, small and private. 

They didn't have time to admire the scenery anymore. 

If they were fast enough, they could be there in a little less than six hours. McCree thought they could get to Yellowstone before the sun set and prayed for the attack to be planned for a couple days later. The place was gigantic.

Hanzo spent half-an-hour on the phone with Guilliams, obtaining more intel about what the attack was about, how they could triangulate the zone better, what time they had.

Guilliams, as Hanzo explained later on, had had an agent intercept one of Sombra’s emails with Reaper, and it had given enough leeway to interpret it as a soon-to-come attack. They were trying to locate her phone’s IP, but knowing the hacker, doing so was difficult.

“We have to think about it.” McCree said more to himself than to Hanzo. “Which part of the park would they use as a target?”

“They want to touch as many people as possible.” Hanzo stated, looking at the landscape flying by.

“One of the park’s main attraction then. Maybe put something in the Grand Prismatic spring?”

“Do people have access to it?”

“Not really. It fumes a little but visitors have to stay away.”

“Think harder then.”

“What about the Old Faithful then?” McCree suddenly said, going even faster.

“What’s that?”

“A geyser with an enormous impact, you’d have to want to use it as a spreading way. It explodes around once every hour.”

“It has to be that, then.”

The last hours of driving were painfully long, now that they had a good hunch about what was about to come.

It was going to be a long night.

It wasn’t even six in the evening when they got into the park and walked to the vicinity of the geyser.

“And now, we wait.”

“Let me observe, and stay ready.” Hanzo said, eyes trained on the Old Faithful, from afar.

It took two hours and thirty minutes for Hanzo to see a shimmer in the air, a digital glitch in the atmosphere and to call out for McCree’s help.

“Now. Go.”

“But I don’t see—”

“Go! She’s going for the geyser!”

So McCree let himself trust him and started running, zigzagging between people, and jumped over the attraction’s rope to run into the geyser’s spot, under the screams of visitors. He suddenly saw Sombra’s shimmer and launched a stun grenade at her, tackling her on the ground with him. The clamor behind him was starting to roar and she disappeared the moment his hand closed around the vial she had clasped in her hand.

“Run!” He heard Hanzo screaming from somewhere behind him and he obeyed, ran after him, pursued by the place’s security.

“We have to evade them and trace them back.”

“I put a tracker on her!”

“Then, we are going!” Hanzo said, and took his hand, taking a sudden turn in their way, using his other hand to take his knife out of his pocket and jumped on a motorcycle he hijacked in seconds, McCree climbing behind him.”

“Hang on to and tell me where to go!” He told him and started the engines, fleeing the park’s security.

“The signal’s going north-east!”

Hanzo went faster, got on the highway and slalomed between cars.

“How much?” 

“She’s going as fast as us.”

They followed her for forty minutes, driving as fast as they could, until the signal stopped and McCree screamed in Hanzo’s ear, hand grabbing hard at his shirt.

“She stopped! She stopped! She’s at Dunraven Pass, take the next branch to get out.”

“Understood.”

They drove to where the signal had stopped emitting and got off the motorcycle.

“Now, where could she have gone?” McCree said, nervous, while Hanzo looked around, bow in hand.

“You want to explore the area?”

“Yes.”

“Beep me if you need help.” McCree nodded.

The forest was deep there, pine trees surrounding the road, and their visibility was limited. McCree explored for half an hour before he heard a voice, otherworldly.

“How we meet again.”

McCree turned around, gun in hand, firing at a shadow.

“Is that how you greet old friends?”

Standing tall before him, you couldn’t forget his mask.

“Reaper. What do you want?”

“Reconnecting. Why don’t you join us?”

“Why would I?”

“I guess you found out about Moira, why wouldn’t you want to reform the team, the real one?” And McCree didn’t know what he was referring to but his body was, his stomach clenching from the want to vomit, his insides churning with fear.

“I don’t know you.”

“Don’t you?”

And Reaper took his mask off, revealing teared-up skin, a destroyed face but an unforgettable stare.

“You died.”

“And yet. Don’t you miss me?”

“Every day.”

“Join me.”

“I miss the old you, not the monster you’ve become.”

“Then we have nothing to say to each other.”

Three things happened at the same time, Reaper lifted his shotgun to shoot at McCree, an arrow planted in Reaper’s right arm and McCree took a bullet from behind, a healing one.

“Shit.” Reaper said and disappeared into a shadow.

“It’s not the last time we’ll see each other.” He told him, while vanishing.

McCree was in too much shock to move.

“Show your fucking self! I’ve had too much of ghosts!”

“Are you talking about me?” Hanzo asked, running to him, a hand on his shoulder.

“No.” He told him, in a normal tone of voice, and then screamed again. “Ana! Don’t be a coward and fucking stand before me!”

“Oh.” Hanzo said next to him as a grey-haired middle-eastern woman appeared from behind a tree.

“I am—livid.”

“We have matters to discuss.”

“You have no right to claim anything into my life when you left me to believe you were dead for ten years!”

“I can explain.”

“Of course you can.”

“Jesse.” Hanzo hushed, next to him. “She seems like an ally, let’s listen to her.”

“Even if  _ you _ say so—” McCree sighed. “I barely can contain myself.”

“Get in my car.”

She’d come in a camouflaged 4x4, and before McCree could say anything, she cut him. 

“We have to meet with someone. We’ll explain in due time, when we’re safe.”

They both sat on the back seats, McCree looking for the reality of Hanzo’s existence after seeing so many dead people back to life, taking his head and clutching, hard, disbelieving.

“Tell me I’m not seeing things, Hanzo.”

“You’re not, Jesse. Think about the hand on your plexus.”

And he followed his advice, tried to calm himself down with the technique they’d used days before after they’d found out about Moira’s return.

“We have a two hour drive.” Ana stated, driving, and Hanzo gripped harder at his hand, thumbs pressing circles against his palm.

McCree was in shock, trembling beside him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i loved writing this chapter. hope you've liked it !

**Author's Note:**

> I'll maybe let you subscribe to the fic because I don't think I'll update it weekly like I do with other fandoms ; this fic demands a lot of prep lmao


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